


a party of three

by orphan_account



Category: Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We could do our own party," Bart suggested. He'd straightened up a bit on his way to the couch where Kon was, fixing tables and chairs and replacing the food he'd eaten. Good thing they billed these kids for everything that could be destroyed or taken, otherwise they'd be out of funds because of Bart's stomach. "Kon could sing." He smiled, face sticky with soda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a party of three

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a party-cleaning service (?) au. it's not canon-compliant so imagine it taking place before young justice is a real team, but the three of them are as close as if it had already happened. they all still have their respective abilities.

Kon sighed melodramatically, splaying himself across the chair, with his head lopping over the armrest and his foot nudging a crushed soda can to the ground.

"What are we doing?" He drew the last word out long and high and tossed his head to face Tim, who was scrubbing at the ground where a kid had thrown up. Bart had rushed in to scan the place first and, since Kon had gotten him chicken whizzies after their last job, told Kon which parts to get situated in first. Particularly, the non-thrown-up-in parts. Tim got stuck with those because... well, because he was Tim. And nobody looked better in elbow-length rubber gloves than Tim.

"I'm cleaning," Tim said, sounding every bit as exhausted and frustrated as Kon figured he would after twenty minutes of cleaning up other kids' messes. "You're laying there complaining, and Bart is," he paused, "Actually, I sort of lost track of Bart."

"I'm right here," Bart popped his head out from the opening to the kitchen, throwing chips into his mouth almost too fast for the other two to see.

"So Bart is eating." Tim sighed it out and continued scrubbing. He moved on to picking up a trashed lampshade in the corner while Kon continued a bit more of his acting, whimpering and moaning and he even kicked his legs a little.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Timbo. Look at this face, look at this getup. You don't wear leather to clean up parties, you wear it to start them."

"You're right," Tim said, worrying his bottom lip while he peeled an ice cream wrapper of the wall. "You shouldn't be wearing leather."

"Right," Kon said, voice light like he'd just realized something important. "Not all of us have a Bat to replace it."

"Don't be childish. You know I don't ask him for money. Why else would I be doing this at eleven at night, while the kid who threw the party takes a nice nap outside on the lawn?"

"The goodness of your heart," Bart supplied, having moved onto the string cheese section of the fridge. It didn't matter what he ate, anyway. They'd cataloged everything in the house with the party thrower at five, way before people started filing in. That way they could replace any of it at a moment's notice (which was Bart's job, obviously, and he was doing it, replacing vases and lampshades in-between bites). Turns out most kids with money to blow on a huge party, not to mention their clean-up services, were less worried about the dollar sign and more about whether or not their parents would find out. The three of them also sort of acted as police, because nothing screams "disowned" like getting arrested for a noise violation. Tim took care of that. Kon offered to wear the badge and all, but Tim made it clear that The Big Bat himself arranged their business and wasn't eager for it to reflect poorly on him. When they'd first been approached about making a team they'd thought it would be a real team, like the Justice League or something, not a cleaning service for rich kids. Tim had found it funny too. Called it ironic, not that Kon really got the irony. Must've been an inside joke.

Anyway, they could've been patrolling something real, but instead they were doing this on the weekends. Tim had explained a million times it was like a goldfish versus a dog - they needed to prove responsibility or some shit. So they carded people and made sure the neighbors had no reason to call the cops. That nobody got hurt. Yeah, parties were dangerous, Kon knew that, they'd learned that enough since they started the business. It certainly didn't hurt to have a bunch of heroes hanging around. But it was still bland. Period.

"So it's money you're chasing for."

"Don't act like you don't like it either. Sure, we don't get paid to be here, and we only get paid for the acquisition of replacement items, and-" Tim put down his scrub and used what was uncovered on his arm to wipe his forehead and push the hair back. "I'm making it sound really shitty."

"Definitely," Kon said, now moved to sit cross-legged on the couch. He usually used his tactile telekinesis to help with clean-up, but this time he picked up the trash he'd knocked down earlier and tossed it into one of their garbage bags. Perfect aim. "Should we wake up the guy outside and see if he can get the party started again? The night's still young."

"No. Absolutely not. Even if he's legal he's better off if we cut him off of... whatever he was drinking, now."

"We could do our own party," Bart suggested. He'd straightened up a bit on his way to the couch where Kon was, fixing tables and chairs and replacing the food he'd eaten. Good thing they billed these kids for everything that could be destroyed or taken, otherwise they'd be out of funds because of Bart's stomach. "Kon could sing." He smiled, face sticky with soda.

"I _am_ a rockstar," Kon admitted and Tim huffed. "What, want to ruin this party before it's even happened?"

Tim took off his gloves and threw them in his bucket of soapy water. "Bart, did you finish the basement?"

"And upstairs, too. I know it was Kon's but you guys were taking too long." Kon didn't even bother trying to look hurt. Less work for him.

Tim fixed the rug and hung a painting while he thought. "What're you going to sing?"

"Not opera, sorry." Tim shot him a look and Kon shrugged. "Don't know." Then he swallowed and coughed. "Actually, my voice is shot. You should sing." Bart nodded in agreement and Tim wrinkled up his face.

"No way."

"We can play party games?" Bart was full of ideas today. He'd probably been bored while raiding the fridge and stockpiled them for later in case of further boredom.

"Like what?"

"Nevermind," Kon said, his turn to huff and puff. "You're no good at partying anyway."

"You've never been to a party."

"Are you kidding me? You can't have a party without two things: solo cups and Superboy. Partying is like... my anti-Kryptonite. My yellow sun." He hopped off the couch and climbed up in the air, towards the ceiling, mimicking his earlier position up along the chandelier. Tim wasn't convinced.

"I've never seen you at parties."

"I've never seen you at them either," Kon said, and it was childish but he was not about to admit his lack of partying experience. Supes wasn't much of a party person. That's what growing up in the middle of nowhere amongst... heather, or whatever, got you.

"I don't go to parties. I go to _functions_."

"Functions? Next you're going to tell me you wear suits and drink the bubbly, too."

"I'm a minor," Tim replied, neat and tidy and Kon sucked in a breath because he wasn't lying. He groaned, coming back down to face them.

"I can't believe you've had more fun than me."

"Those aren't fun. They're business. Tedious business."

"You sound like-" Kon bit it off. It didn't matter. "I bet you had fun at your first function."

Tim decidedly didn't answer that, and that did it.

Kon got up and fixed his jacket. "We're done here. If we can't throw a party, we can at least do something else worthwhile."

"Like grab a pizza?" Bart was interested again.

"Yes," Kon said, hands on his hips in conviction. "We're going to get pizza!"

Tim rolled his eyes and picked up his bucket. "We're done, anyway. Bart, could you-"

"Read your mind," Bart zipped out to collect their employer, setting him on the couch they'd been occupying.

"Onwards," Kon said, and Tim hushed him.

 

Pizza was perfect after a long day's work cleaning up other people's messes.

Or it would be, if they hadn't just spent the day cleaning up other people's regurgitated pizza. Kon hadn't thought about that until they were at the pizza place. Bart hadn't even cared.

And Tim? Tim had probably just wanted to see it play out.

"You're looking green, I can see that, but since I'm not so squeamish-"

"I'm not squeamish," Kon blurted out a second too late, after a quick thought about whether or not it was cool to be squeamish.

"Go ahead Bart," Tim said. He'd changed out of his cleaning clothes into a hoodie and jeans. Kept the mask on, though. "Buy yourself some pizza." Bart barely waited for Tim to slap the money into his hands.

"So..." Kon started, and Tim put on that shifty smile that goody-two-shoe sidekicks probably shouldn't know how to make. "You totally planned this."

"I wanted to ask you something. Pizza keeps Bart occupied long enough for a few words."

"Ask away, I'm an open book." Kon wondered what he would ask. Did those piercings hurt when you got them? No, but being invincible to most infections certainly helped. Is that leather real? No way. He was a rebel, not a _monster_. How does your hair look so good all the time? Genetics, he'd say, and use the opportunity to tease Tim about the copious amounts of gel he knew he used. He wondered if that would trip him up and trigger the Fun Tim Mode.

"Why're you in such a rush to do these things? I mean, like you said. You're going to be a kid forever and you like it that way. Why try to do adult things?"

Kon frowned. This wasn't Fun Tim. This was Nosy Detective Tim, who was trained in a cave to pick people apart with his hands and with his words. "Buzzkill," he muttered and Tim shrugged.

"I mean, I have a good idea myself."

"Oh yeah? Please tell. I'd love to hear what the public thinks of me."

"It's not about you going to parties. Isn't even about parties. It's about us growing old and you staying young. That's scary."

Kon made like he was shivering. "Hit the nail on the head. I'm a big scaredy-cat, boy wonder. You've cured me."

"It's not like that."

"Whatever," Kon said, removing his hands from his sides and kicking at the ground.

"We hang out all the time, and we're hardly on the cusp of adulthood. We have fun."

"But what if we haven't had all the fun we can? What if when you guys get old, I miss out on the things you can do? I don't-" Kon groaned in frustration. "This is a total buzzkill."

"Voicing your feelings?"

Kon narrowed his eyes. "Having you pry them out of me."

"I'm your _best friend_ , Kon. I'm just trying to understand you."

"Then stop using damn Jedi mind tricks on me! You already know, anyway."

"Know what? That you're scared of being left behind? We're not that shitty, you know, we don't just leave our friends. What do you want to do? You want us to live life on the edge, go drinking with fake IDs and dancing at a club? We already live life on the edge."

"Those are things friends do. They make memories like that."

"On TV, Kon."

"Right, now you're mocking me because I don't live a normal life like you? I can't tell the difference?"

"Having a double life isn't normal," Tim gritted out.

And then Bart was back, face cheesy and stomach full and looking like he was about to laugh before he saw their faces. It was Bart though, so it happened in seconds, warped his face from bright to worried.

Kon got out of there before he could see what came next.

 

"I think I threw up," Bart admitted. "Not because I ate too much pizza. Duh. But I did it all over Tim's shoes, after you left. He didn't even look mad, or tired, or anything."

"Considering those are the only two emotions he knows how to convey, I'm really not surprised." Kon was picking at his nails. The two of them already finished off this house in an hour, and Tim was nowhere to be seen. Kon was surprised he ditched. Though he wasn't surprised that the one time Tim ditched, it was also the easiest house they'd ever gotten. The party at this place sizzled out in half an hour, and even the host trickled out to another party half-way across town. Leaving them with a few bottles of fizzy pop and some expired-cheese tortilla chips to clean up, but not much else. Kon figured the kids ditched the party for the other because it had booze or weed or something, and while a side of him said he should probably notify the proper authorities, the other side also started screaming "Screw Tim!" so loud he couldn't hear his own morals.

"You guys fought," Bart said, and Kon would answer it with a resounding no if he didn't know that Bart wasn't asking. Bart was fast with stuff like this, same as he was fast in general. He was an intuitive person. Which made him the second worst person to be around after fighting with Tim.

(Tim, obviously, being the first.)

"What's wrong? Is it-"

"It was about me being young. Like, forever." Something like that. Kon didn't have to elaborate for Bart to make sense of it.

"You know that my growth was accelerated, right?" Kon nodded and Bart bit into a pickle. The crunch seemed strangely appropriate to fill the silence. "So I'm like the opposite of you. You've got a young body, I've got an old. Older. And you're worried about staying too young while I'm worried about getting too old."

"Sort of."

"Sort of is close enough for me," Bart finished the pickle. "It's bad enough being a kid hero. Dealing with what's normal and whatever." Kon's heart siezed up a little. Remembered Tim getting angry. He couldn't tune it out with the "Screw Tim!" voice.

"We got stuck with other weird situations too."

"Poor us," Kon said. He thought melodrama would shut away this conversation.

"Not with friends like Tim," Bart replied, simple.

 

Then Tim showed. Thirty minutes after Bart and his pickles and the "Screw Tim!" voice had mellowed and softened into a pliable "Find out how to apologize to Tim in a way that is both cool and not-awkward" voice.

He had a backpack even though they were done cleaning, and this stiff way of walking.

"We're done," Kon blurted, because he had to say something but he also didn't want to be the one to say Something.  
Tim nodded. "I know." He let it hang in the air, just like Kon let the "So what are you doing here?" stay unsaid.

Bart ignored their weird mood and pilfered through Tim's bag.

"What. Is this? I mean, I know, but what are going to do with this?"

Bart held out the unplugged mini disco ball for Kon to see. Tim wrung his hands.

"It's for our party."

 

Their client be damned, seriously. Kon couldn't care less if they came over and saw the three of them sprawled out on their roof, with the longest electrical cord spiraling out one of the windows, and the ball throwing colors around in the air. Hell, their whole clientele be damned. Their business. The Bat. Supes. Even the Flash, even though he was kind of cool.

This was perfect. Bart was eating marshmallows, feet dangling over the side, and even Tim looked relaxed with his feet out in front of him. Kon was laying flat down, arms crossed behind his head and teeth bared in a smile.

"Dude, this is. This is a sick party."

"Real sick," Tim echoed, even though there was no music and no dancing, and the disco ball was kind of crap. "I know the party's cool, but-"

"Apology accepted," Kon said, and Tim punched him in the shoulder, but doesn't protest it, just continues looking at him in the dark with intention.

"You know I wouldn't leave you. Or Bart," Tim tacked on, because he knew Bart was listening even if he pretended not to. "You're my best friends."

"Then take off your mask," Kon teased and Tim slugged him again.

"Don't push it," he murmured, and Kon returned to leaning back and enjoying the company.

"It's called an irrational fear for a reason," Kon said.

"Superboy, afraid of something? That's new." He kept his voice soft, teasing (payback), friendly. Kon was glad to hear it instead of the hard, unkind voice from their fight.

"Not right now," Kon said back, because he couldn't say he was perfect with the reality of things or whatever. But this helped. Tim and Bart helped. And they wouldn't leave, at least not tonight. That meant something.

"We should totally make our own team," Bart said, like an afterthought while he turned the marshallows into goo.

"If Batman saw us now, he wouldn't even let us have  _this_ team." Tim leaned back on his hands.

"Nah, he could warm up to it." Kon said, self-assured, and Tim looked like he wanted to contest, mouth open, but then Bart tossed a marshmallow down his throat and zipped between the two of them, arms spread out to grab at their hands.

So he didn't say anything, and Kon didn't swat away Bart, and they sat there, humming to songs playing on the cars that passed by.

**Author's Note:**

> ok that's it! i finally wrote this lol i've been thinking about it for a while and while i didn't really envision it turning into this it did. so here we are.  
> also sorry if it's not canon-compliant even outside of timeline (and by that i mean, ooc-ness i guess) i read part of young justice a while ago and i get things mixed up.  
> as to why the heck these kids are in a party-cleaning service instead of something that's actual community service don't question it... also don't question how many strings batman must have pulled... don't question any of it lol...  
> also tim Does wear his mask even then. even then.
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
